Jim Hearne, in jeans and cowboy boots instead of his banker’s suit, apologizing to Jess for not making it into town. Saying, “It wasn’t the first time I didn’t finish a ride, I guess.”
“I’m proud of you,” Jess said. “You tried.”
“Didn’t try hard enough,” Hearne said sheepishly. “There’s nothing I wanted more than to be the hero.”
“You’re a hero,” Jess said.
“No,” he said, looking away, moisture in his eyes. “I betrayed Laura. I wish I could tell Laura one more time that I love her.”
It took him a few moments to collect himself, then, “I betrayed people who looked up to me, and I betrayed myself. And in the end, I didn’t come through for Annie and Monica. I wish I could talk to them, clear the air.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jess said. “They know you did your best. That’s what they’ll remember. You gave your life for them.”
“Doesn’t seem like enough,” Hearne said.
“What more is there?” Jess asked.
Jim Newkirk came into his room after dark, wearing a ball cap. He looked fine, the picture of health. Newkirk stood at the foot of the bed and wouldn’t meet Jess’s eyes.
“I thought you were dead,” Jess had said.
Newkirk looked out the window. “I am. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Not very damned good.”
“Better than me.”
Jess said, “Life’s messy, isn’t it?”
Newkirk had haunted eyes. “It’s hard, all right. But maybe a man can live with himself if he makes the right decisions. If he does what he knows is right. Things may not work out, but at least he can live with himself.”
Jess fell asleep and never saw Newkirk again. But he had a feeling he’d see Hearne.
EDUARDO VILLATORO, on crutches, wearing his brown suit. Introducing Jess to his wife, Donna, and his mother. They had flown up from Southern California, Villatoro said, and had stayed with him at the motel but were now at Julie Rodale’s house, keeping Julie company.
“Julie has convinced Donna to consider moving here,” Villatoro said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “We might even do it. I should enjoy my retirement, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll buy a horse.”
“Great,” Jess said, smiling. “Another ex-cop moving here.”
After Donna and his mother left, Villatoro told Jess the wrongfully convicted Santa Anita employees were being released from prison. He also said the FBI had figured out everything, even how the ex-cops used pigs to dispose of the bodies-Anthony Rodale, Tom Boyd-and analysis of the pig manure confirmed it all. Thanking Jess again for saving him from that. Saying oddly, Jess thought, that he admired how Jess could look at a mountain and know the story about it.
Laura Hearne, Jim’s wife, came to see Jess and brought the RAWLINS file with her. She said she knew the situation with Jess’s ranch had troubled Jim greatly, and felt she owed it to the memory of her husband to finish the job he’d started. She’d done some research, she said. Her idea was to donate the ranch to the State of Idaho on the condition it be kept intact.
“Poor Jim,” Jess said. “I miss him.”
Tears flooded her eyes, but she didn’t cry. She was a tough old girl. Country people were more used to the cycle of life and death; they experienced it every day.
“I miss him, too,” she said, looking up at Jess. “I always knew about Monica, even though he never told me. He didn’t have to. I forgave him years ago, but I never told him that. I wish now I had told him.”
Jess nodded, thinking Hearne would have liked to have known that and hoped he knew it now.
Jess told her to forget about the donation. He had a better idea. When he told her, she responded with a devilish look, said she’d help with the details because Jim would have wanted her to.
“I just wish he hadn’t died feeling guilty,” she said later. “That eats at me.”
“He didn’t, in the end,” Jess assured her. “He was doing the right thing, and he was on a horse again. He loved you. He told me.”
What Jess didn’t say was when Hearne had told him.
This time, she cried.
JESS AWOKE, his head clearer than it had been since he’d arrived in the hospital, whenever that was. The pain was simply gone. Everything, gone. No feeling below his chest. He rolled his head over on the pillow. Sun streamed through the window and warmed his face. The room was filled with flowers, which was probably why, he thought, he kept dreaming he was in a garden.
Annie sat in a chair at the side of the bed.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Jess asked.
Annie looked up. She seemed older, somehow. More serious.
“Is this really you?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“It’s hard to tell. Sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not.”
“I’m here,” he said. “I think.” He could feel the sun, and it felt real. The lack of pain was certainly real.
“We’ve been coming here every day for two weeks,” Annie said. “My mom brings us after school.”
“Two weeks? I had no idea,” he said. “It’s May, then.”
“I guess so.”
He tried to recall the days, the weeks. It was impossible to sort out. He knew what he knew: the faces, the visits, the explanations from people living and dead. Maybe, when he was strong again, he could sort it all out.
Annie glanced toward the door, then rose and leaned to Jess. “Mrs. Hearne told us what you did.”
Jess worked his hand out from beneath the covers and reached out to her. He was shocked at how spindly his arm looked, how gnarled and old his fingers had become. Nevertheless, she took his hand in hers. She didn’t seem to mind. Jess felt a twitch of a smile. “What does your mom think about that?”
“She can’t believe it.”
He snorted, anticipating pain. Astonished, he said, “It used to hurt to laugh. Now it doesn’t.”
“Why did you do it?” Annie asked, demanding an answer.
Jess said, “Because you’re tough. You can handle it. You’ll do well.”
She nodded. No point in arguing that.
Jess said, “You agree with me, then.”
“Annie.” It was Monica, entering the room, her face flushed. “Jess, I’m sorry,” Monica said. “You know Annie.” Monica glared at her daughter, who smiled back.
Jess looked up at her. It was good to see her again.
“She’s a pistol,” Jess said, his voice thick.
“Jess, we need to talk about what you’re doing. Laura Hearne talked with us and explained how it all works. She’s been an angel, considering the circumstances. She says she’ll help us every way she can, just like Jim would have done. She’s a remarkable woman.”
“I agree,” Jess said.
“But I still don’t understand why.”
Jess nodded. “Annie knows,” he said, looking at Annie, who nodded, as if they were sharing a secret.
“You might want to rethink this when you’re well,” Monica said. “You’re pretty busted up.”
Not just that, Jess wanted to say. He lowered his eyes, looked at the contours of his body under the blanket, the way the sheets draped away from his knees and trunk. He wanted to see a fitter version of himself, but it was not to be.
Annie was still squeezing his hand. “Like Laura told you, Annie, I don’t care what you do with it as long as you benefit from it. You can sell it to developers, or divide it up, whatever you want to do. Jim had some good ideas on how to keep most of it intact. He was a smart man, and Laura is just as smart. You and your mom should listen to what she has to say.”
Annie flushed and rolled her eyes, saying, “Jeez.”
Monica moved further into the room and put her hands on Annie’s shoulders. “This is a lot for Annie to understand right now. I can’t believe it myself. You’ll likely want to change your mind when you get better,” she said, chuckling softly.